


Endurance

by iamq



Category: Tomb Raider (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Injury Recovery, Jonah is a good friend, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamq/pseuds/iamq
Summary: "They came to tell your faults to me,They named them over one by one;I laughed aloud when they were done,I knew them all so well before, —Oh, they were blind, too blind to seeYour faults had made me love you more."-- SARA TEASDALE (Faults)
Relationships: Lara Croft & Samantha Nishimura, Lara Croft & Samantha Nishimura & Jonah Maiava, Lara Croft/Samantha Nishimura
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Endurance

**Author's Note:**

> My first work in this fandom, a little messy which I apologise for. 
> 
> This fic is set post-Shadow and includes the events from the comics, mainly Sam having been possessed by Himiko for a time. By the time this fic starts, Himiko is sealed away in the mirror, and Lara is still struggling with her guilt after the self-confrontation in The Nightmare DLC.  
> You can still understand this fic if you've only played the base games.

“I don’t like being choked.”

It’s what Lara tells her one night, idly. Sam looks down at her, cuddled to her side with her long hair still pulled back in the low ponytail she always wears. She can’t remember what she’d replied, something like “I don’t think many people do,” and had left it at that.

It wasn’t a problem for them.

Lara had obviously been through trauma, Sam wasn’t stupid. What happened on the Island had torn them apart and forced them back together, knitted them tightly like a healed bone. Sam hadn’t healed well, hadn’t been as strong as Lara had, hadn’t gotten back on her feet as fast as she did. The way Himiko invaded her mind had her waking up in darkness, paranoia over who she could trust making her turn away Reyes, Jonah, even Lara was cast aside.

It still filled her with shame just to think about it. Driven to madness when it was her girlfriend who lost Roth, had to kill men and dig through corpses, fight off a Goddess to save their lives- and Sam couldn’t look in the bathroom mirror because she was scared to see a stranger’s face staring back at her.

Sam was the weak one, even if Lara would never say it. Lara was the protector of them both, musingly quiet as her mind ran away from her, keeping all her research locked away in the study room that her father used to use, whittling hours at a desk solving riddles and translating ancient crypt codes, and returning to Sam’s side time and time again, with a thousand stories and sun-dark skin.  
There were no more adventures for Sam, barely able to leave Croft Manor, but Lara brought the adventures to her. Jonah visited to, brought her trinkets, a pair of golden rings wrapped in a reed box- “Just in case you ever decide she needs an anchor,” he’d said with a wink, before making his way to Lara’s study for the next update on whatever artefact she sought now.

Those rings remained in their box, at the bottom of Sam’s wardrobe, and in the corner of her mind. _One day,_ she thought, _When I can be brave enough for Lara. When she doesn’t have to protect me._

They were from Paititi. She only knew this because of Lara’s ramblings-

“A giant village, all led by this one boy Etzli, the son of Unuratu- and oh Sam, the customs there were amazing. Just by the colours you wore, they knew what side of the rebellion you were on, they had an entire social construct of calling people “dead” if they were village outcasts, even if they still walked amongst them!”

Lara never mentioned the violence. Sam watches her dress in the mornings, quickly, like Lara had someone waiting for her or deadline to meet, or more likely because Lara has always been shy, closed off. Aloof to some, but always sweet for Sam. When the sun is rising like that, her body glows, all tanned skin interrupted by pale scars like a map and it’s markers. _Some have faded_ , Sam leans out to stroke her hand down Lara’s spine before she can pull her camisole down, _like snow in the summer._

There are a few that Sam knows are permanent. A jagged, raised bump in her side from being impaled on rebar on Yamatai and cauterising the wound. There’s a small nick over her right cheekbone. One around her calf lies like a bracelet, from the wolf traps. A few places on her body have little indents in the skin- _Like pulling pastry over itself_ \- that warp and even back out. _Gunshots_ , she knows, but it pains her to see them.

The ones that fade are the ones Lara hates the most. She’s seen her girlfriend stand in front of a mirror and stare, angrily, at scrapes over her shoulders when they’ve taken the brunt of a fall, bite marks- human and animal alike- fading under freckles and sunspots. Sam thinks she’s beautiful.

Sam isn’t the only one.

Lara tells her sometimes. Tells her about the people she meets. Sam can’t help but feel jealous when she describes them- _“Sofia, she had the most vibrant hair, it stood out like a flare against all the ice and wood there,”_ – that loving look in her hardened gaze- _“It’s weird, I know, but Crimson Fire- she- the power radiated off of her like she really was aflame. I wish you could’ve seen her, Sam. I wish you could’ve seen all of them, bones and all.”_

Sam would rather die, honestly. People with bones in their faces crawling on all fours and chittering doesn’t sound like her type of fun, but she sets her jaw and listens to Lara speak.

_“Unuratu was so brave. She held herself like she knew she was doomed but faced it anyways. Can you imagine it?”_

She doesn’t have to. She can see it in Lara every day.

Sam snaps out of her daydreaming when Lara starts rifling through drawers to find a hair tie, tucking her hair behind one ear and pulling it to the side in her hand like she can’t bear it down, getting more stressed by the minute. Rising silently out of bed, Sam spots the bobble where Lara always leaves it, looped around the handle of her bedside table. She rolls her eyes, leans down, and pulls it off the drawer handle with a satisfying _ping_!

Lara stiffens. Sam wonders if she’s been struck with the realisation that _yes, no one has moved your hair ties whilst you sleep, idiot,_ or if she’s just been spooked by the noise, the way she tenses when dogs bark, or fireworks fill the sky, or when Sam drops something metal and it clatters noisily.

Sam walks up behind her with all the grace of a lazed twenty-something on a quiet Saturday morning. The birds outside chirp lightly and the sun filters in in the way that makes Lara’s hair glow, her skin look rich like browned sugar, and highlights the glints in her skin from the gold shine in her veins ever since she became Ix Chel.

A gust of wind blows through the room, and the balconet doors throw themselves open, slamming against the walls consecutively. Usually Lara would complain about it ruining a peaceful morning, grumble about how she should’ve flipped the latch, but today she’s going to laugh and press kisses into Sam’s skin as her girlfriend hugs her from behind.

When she loops her arms around Lara’s shoulders, dangling the bobble off her index finger like a friendly taunt, she expects that. This isn’t a common occurrence for either of them, but she’s hugged Lara from behind before, danced with Lara in her arms in the big Croft Manor kitchen, thrown a perfectly aimed Jaffa cake to hit her in the back of the head just to see her laugh, kissed down her spine and held Lara to her chest like she’s something fragile.

She was not expecting Lara to seize, grab Sam’s arms and push her aside and onto the floor, lunging to the bed and grabbing the gun she hides in her drawer, locking it onto Sam’s head with precision accuracy as she slowly moves back, prowling like a predator hunting down its prey.

“Lara?” Sam questions, quietly, slowly. Lara looks spaced out for an uncomfortably long time, her hands and arms starting to shake and tremble with how long she’s been holding the gun, slowly losing her composure as it swings wildly.

 _I haven’t seen her cry like this since her nightmare about Ross,_ Sam thinks, patiently, as if there isn’t a gun pointed at her face. _If she isn’t careful, she’s going to shoot something priceless._

Sam eyes the Ming dynasty vase holding some heather, lily of valley just blooming. Lara’s a thinker, like that, leaving messages in the flowers that Sam doesn’t understand and is scared to look up. Maybe those two mean ‘ _Don’t hug me today or I’ll shoot you._ ’

She pulls herself up onto her elbows, slowly curling up into a crouch. Lara isn’t looking at her now, the gun is pointed to the floor. She’s muttering something to herself- _“Trinity,”_ \- is all she makes out before a hushed- _“How can they be here? I need to get Sam—”_ and her eyes flick downwards, hyper focused.

“Sam,” Lara answers, desperately. She looks down at the gun in her hands and glances up at Sam on the floor with that befuddled, innocent look Sam recognises from the first time Lara drank alcohol, or the first time they went out together, or the first time they kissed, or when Sam screamed at her from the hospital and told her to _get out, leave me alone!_

“Trinity isn’t here, Lara. We’re at home.” Sam starts, watching as Lara’s eyes cloud, looking more confused by the minute.  
“But I- I heard gunshots- and—” She turns around, bewildered, looking altogether lost. Sam painfully remembers another memory- _Lara hunched over and breathing heavily through her nose and mouth, panting like she’d been running a marathon. Only a few months after coming back from Paititi, ‘saving the world, again,’ as Jonah put it, and Sam had been eagerly absorbing any details Lara would spare. Sam had been lighting candles around the room whilst Lara showered, turning to her when she heard the heavy wooden door open, only to see Lara’s face go slack, watch her fall to her knees. A panic attack._

She didn’t know what to do then, and she didn’t really know what to do now, but she stood up and walked over to Lara, each step purposeful and slow.

“Lara, no one’s here except you and me. The alarms would’ve gone off if someone came in. It was just the windows.” Sam soothes. Lara turns to her and her eyes search her face with open, raw trust, and _fear_. It makes Sam’s heart ache.  
“I thought we were- they were coming for the box, the knife- I couldn’t- how could they get in? I wouldn’t let them get you, Sam, not after—”  
Sam takes her hand.  
“It’s just us, Lara.”

Silence falls back over the room. Lara’s breathing is the only audible noise, that or Sam’s own heartbeat thudding in her eardrums. Lara puts down the gun, collapses to the floor, Sam coming down with her, pulling Lara into her arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Lara murmured, arms limp at her sides, head bowed; Sam curls herself around Lara like a shield, like she can protect Lara just this once, in their million-pound estate where every door is alarmed and there are three emergency response teams ready to dispatch if one alarm triggered. Maybe this is the only place Sam can keep Lara safe, where Lara should feel safe anyways.

“It’s okay, sweetheart- now we’re one-to-one on the almost killing each-other tally, aren’t we?” Sam jokes. Lara lets out a strangled sob, and Sam winces as she remembers why exactly Jonah was the jokester of the group. Sam’s more… physical.

“It’s just- my hair was down and I- what if I’m not ready when they come and- and they hurt y- or I’m not ready and I- I nearly hurt _you_ and I—”

Sam shushes her once again and finds the bobble on the floor, eyeing it like it’s done her a personal misdeed- _Upset my Tomb Raider, face my wrath!_ \-- she pulls it extra taut against her fingers and runs her other hand through Lara’s hair, tying her ponytail for her.

Lara brings her knees up between them both, hugs them to her chest and looks aside, almost bashful. Sam doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing at all, just holds Lara for a moment. It’s nice.

“I’m supposed to be better than this,” Lara sighs out, bitter. Where Sam is holding her hand, she can feel Lara’s pulse thrum in her veins. She knows if she looks, Lara’s blood would look almost too prominent under her skin, but for most people the sheer number of scars over Lara’s body would be enough to distract from that.

Not for Sam.

Sam sees Lara the way no one else in the world does. She sees bookish Lara, young, 18 and nervously pacing the University halls with her adorable strutting walk, long braid and book cradled to her chest. _The way her cheeks blushed when Sam asked her to zip up her shirt, when she managed to convince Lara to wear that tiny black dress even if it was only for Sam’s eyes, really_. She remembers Yamatai, Lara’s face soaked in blood and her entire body shaking as she half carried, half dragged Sam to the boats, and to safety, the way she stood trembling at the helm of the ship, walking as stiff as a corpse to the international rescue convoy. _Sam coaxing Lara to relax in the aeroplane, leaning over her and dabbing away the blood with a wet towel. Lara flinched any time Sam’s hand touched her; hand clenched so tightly to the chair that her knuckles were white._

Her memory is spotty after that. The possession, the hospital, turning Lara away time and time again as Lara gave her that sad-puppy look. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want Lara to see that horrible monster inside of her; Himiko haunting her reflection, and sleep, and soul.

Sam wondered now if Lara ever thought the same about herself. She wondered what Lara saw in her own reflection, when her face would turn, her hands shake with anger, and her body angle away from her own gaze. 

“Lara—” She starts, ready to comfort, protect Lara the way she can before-

“No. No, Sam, the nightmares were all _right_ \- I’m just- I’m just hurting everyone by doing what I do, and I know- it’s stupid- if we’d never looked for the stupid Island, you’d be happier and Roth would be- and, God, I’m so _selfish_. I’m so… sorry.”

“We shouldn’t even be dating,” Sam blurts out, desperate to stop Lara’s self-hate before it mutates into something even bigger- _The way Lara recites it seems like something she’s told herself before, learned for herself, accepted_ – and watches as Lara blinks up at Sam in that owlish ‘you’re-not-a-book-I-can-read-or-rhyme-to-translate’ way, a her eyebrows creased as she tries to work out what Sam means.

“You want to break up with me?” She throws out, looking down at her legs akimbo on the floor, hand tracing the glossy wood panelling. It’s the most sobered down Lara’s been this entire morning.

“No, no, no. I’m just- you’re not selfish, Lara. I mean, look at me, I spent a whole year locked up and you visited me every week—”

“Not when I was in Syria. I couldn’t come to see you.”

Sam shifts uncomfortably. Lara’s drawn away from her now, Sam’s eyes glance over the rough scarred skin on Lara’s left shoulder where she’d scraped a decent amount of skin off after being blown out of a car.

_“Just leave it, Sam, it’ll heal on it’s own.”  
“Lara, let me help you.” Sam had said, gently layering the sudocrem over the wound. It looked angry, irritated with sand that Lara hadn’t cleaned out properly, doused in corpse-water and god knows what else, and impeded from healing by a multitude of other wounds. Sam understood it.  
“It’s just a scrape. I can take care of this stuff by myself.” Lara had argued back, although she hadn’t moved away from Sam’s hands. Sam wasn’t sure what they were anymore. Best friends, strangers, now Lara welcomed her comfort but never asked for it. It made Sam want to roll her eyes, shake Lara’s shoulders and say, “I am no totem to look at, no standing monastery you can only wander through and leave behind. I am yours.”_

“You were busy… saving the world, Lara. Everyone knows that. I know that.”

Her hand hovered over Lara’s before linking their fingers. Lara’s eyes are back on her face now, but her head’s still turned to the floor in a way that makes it look like Lara is asking Sam for forgiveness.

“The world wouldn’t need to be saved from Trinity if I hadn’t… gotten involved. All I do is mess things up, and put people in danger, just like my father before me. How long until Trinity do come, Sam? How long until they kill Jonah, or you, or whoever’s left?”

“You don’t have to protect us, Lara, it’s not your fault. It’s not _your_ fault that Trinity are power hungry bastards, and it’s not your fault when any of us get hurt.”

“But I drag you into it! I dragged you to Yamatai, I dragged Jonah to Peru and everyone else- so many people are dead because of me, Sam! The people I’ve killed, the people who died because of me, the people- the people I couldn’t save. I’ve ruined people’s lives and for what? To have a breakdown when my girlfriend touches me, like I’m… I’m not strong enough? If I’m not strong enough then who am I? Why am I here—”

Sam couldn’t bear to listen to it.

She pulled Lara in, holding her close. It hit her then, how much of Lara was quietly folded away under her mask of intrigue and curiosity, how the hateful glares were never at her body but at _herself_ , how Sam had always wondered about being underwhelming for Lara, no longer the adventurous party girl she used to be but a cowed, scarred woman who had all the mirrors in the mason covered with cloth. Now she knew how Lara mirrored her.

Sam was afraid of not being enough anymore. Lara was afraid she had always been too much for Sam.

For a moment, all she could do was hold her, and then her hand was reaching out to the drawer, pulling it open, searching under folds of clothes and belts for that tiny box.

“I wanted to do this… somewhere else.” She starts, curling her hand over it and waiting for a moment, breathing the in-out technique she learnt in therapy. _Calm down,_ breathe in, _Lara spooks like a horse on a good day,_ breathe out.

“Jonah gave me them. I thought about taking you to a big archaeology dig site, hiding them with a note next to some ancient Greek tablets or something,’ She tilts Lara’s head up with her free hand, letting the other woman lock eyes with her. That stare is deadly.

“I wanted to prove to you that I could still be the Sam… the Samantha you used to know. The one you fell in love with. The girl who pushed _you_ to be braver, not some… agoraphobic mess that can’t even enter a bloody Tesco. The girl who followed you to Yamatai and back out again.”

Lara looks at her fondly. She opens her mouth- to reassure Sam, to comfort her, the way she always does- but Sam keeps going, follows the momentum she’s slowly, slowly built up.

“But I’m not her, Lara. I’ll never be her again. And I’ve been stuck in my own head thinking you’re disappointed in me, bored by me—”

“I’m not,” Lara cuts in, anxious. She’s biting her lower lip and shaking her head and Sam is overwhelmed with the want to kiss her but she staves it off, rubs her thumb over the scar on Lara’s cheekbone and takes Lara’s hand in hers.

“And I think I know now that you want the same for yourself. You think I’m going to leave you, or that I blame you, or that you could’ve stopped anything that happened. And I want to show you just- this is – look, we,” Sam takes a deep breath, “We become what we were meant to be. And this is what we were meant to be. Here with each other. Stronger for our flaws.”

“What are you trying to say, Sam?” Lara asks, tilting her head like a puppy. It’s easy to see in this soft morning glow, how a man could mistake her as some innocent damsel, and not the beacon of vengeance, and fury, and hope that gunned down hundreds of Trinity’s best and lived.

Sam musters up the last of her courage and holds the box out in front of her, watches Lara’s eyes dart down and settle on it. Her hand grips Sam’s with frightening strength, looking between Sam and the box with a tempered curiosity, a hope in her gaze that lightened her face.

“Lara Croft,” Sam started, opening the box and showing her the rings, letting Lara recognise the craftmanship, fond familiarity softening her smile, “Will you marry me?”

Lara’s never looked this nervous before. She sits up, cross legged, takes one of the rings into her hand and twists it around her fingers. Not exactly the answer Sam was expecting, but she can be patient for Lara.

“…Are you _sure?_ ” Lara implores her, looking up through her lashes, holding the ring in the palm of her hands like it’s the most precious jewel she’s ever seen.

Sam can tense Lara’s trepidation and waits a second longer-

“I can’t stop … being me, Sam, Trinity will always be there and I have to help people—”

“I know that.” Sam answers. She spots the ring in Lara’s palm, and closes Lara’s hand over it, using both her hands to hold Lara’s.

“One day I might not come home.” Lara sighs, heavily.

“Well, I won’t be worried about that sweetheart,” There’s puzzlement on Lara’s face, and Sam revels in it for a second, “Since I’ll be there with you and all.”

“ _Samantha_ …” Lara groans. “I’m not putting you in danger like that again—”  
“Exactly. I’m putting myself in danger. So…?”

They both look down at Lara’s hands. For a moment, Sam considers being rejected. She doesn’t think that would stop her traipsing across the continents with Lara in front of her, or pulling Lara in for a kiss every time she got that besotted look on her face, in fact, she doesn’t think it would change her at all. This is no mark for Sam’s character, she realises. This is only her tether to Lara, no longer an anchor to a ship, but a rope between two climbers.

 _Don’t go where I can’t follow,_ she wants to say.

“Yes. Samantha Nishimura, I will marry you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed/any thoughts you have - <3


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